


Chocolate Therapy

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Break Up, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, So much angst, This whole fic is just Bucky crying and pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 06:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7034533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Steve receives a text message from Brock telling him he saw Bucky cheating, their relationship is thrown into turmoil. Steve moves out and refuses to see Bucky, even to hear him out and let him explain that he didn't do it. Bucky handles it poorly.</p><p>(Despite how it may appear, this fanfiction is not in fact a well disguised (or even poorly disguised) advertisement for Ben & Jerry's ice cream.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chocolate Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> I was angsting really hard for no reason and was like "WHAT IF STEVE AND BUCKY BROKE UP FOR A REALLY STUPID REASON AND HANDLED IT REALLY POORLY?" and this was the result.
> 
> This entire fic is just Bucky being really bad at handling life without Steve and it's extremely angsty. However, just know that I promise I would never do anything to separate these two permanently. Sorry if that's a spoiler, but if any of you know me at all, then you already know how this is going to end.
> 
> Also, I made a playlist to help me write this. It's really weird and eclectic and includes a few songs I don't even like and am embarrassed by, but if you're curious: 
> 
> [](http://s1255.photobucket.com/user/hearteyesmonroe/media/Screen%20Shot%202016-05-30%20at%208.51.45%20PM_zpsj4slulcp.png.html)  
> 

Bucky smiles the moment he hears Steve’s footsteps nearing the door, pushing himself up off the couch and shoving a sticky note between the pages of the book he was reading. He doesn’t even bother to set it on the coffee table before he goes to the door to greet his boyfriend. He knows it’s a little ridiculous to be this excited to see Steve, but he gets stir-crazy when Steve has to work on Bucky’s days off.

He reaches the door just as it swings open and Steve steps through it. Bucky immediately reels him into an enormous hug, leaning down to press a kiss into his hair.

It only takes him a few moments to realize something’s wrong.

He realizes because Steve is just standing there stiffly instead of returning the greeting like he usually does. Bucky frowns and pulls back with his hands resting on Steve’s shoulders, trying to read the expression on his face. Steve is just staring back at him with an expression that someone who didn’t know him better would say is blank. Bucky, on the other hand, can see the barely contained fury burning behind his eyes. Uh oh.

“Did something happen at work?” he asks, concern gripping him. Steve just clenches his jaw. “Stevie, babe, if you don’t tell me I can’t—”

“You fucking asshole!”

Bucky reels backward like he’s been slapped.  _ What? _

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

Bucky’s brow furrows in confusion. “Find out about what?”

Steve’s almost-blank expression turns into a barely concealed sneer of disgust. “Oh, don’t play dumb with me, Bucky, you know what you did.”

Bucky really, really doesn’t.

“How long has it been going on?” When Bucky doesn’t say anything, Steve’s face contorts further. “A few weeks?” He waits a moment. “A few months?” Bucky still doesn’t speak. He’s still not sure what’s going on. “Longer?” Steve’s voice grows shrill. “God, Bucky,” he says, and his voice cracks on the name. “How could you do this to me? To us?”

Bucky is completely bewildered at this point. What has he done? “Steve—”

“At least tell me who he is?”

Wait a minute.

No.

No no no.

“Steve, I didn’t—”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Buck, look at this.”

Steve shoves his phone under Bucky’s nose and Bucky focuses his eyes to the text on the screen. It’s a text from Steve’s creepy friend Brock Rumlow. Bucky’s never trusted the guy, but this takes the fucking cake.

The text reads,  _ Hey Steve, I hate to be the one to break this to you but I figure it’s better if you find out now rather than later. Saw lover boy out kissing some other guy. Not sure who. Do yourself a favor and ask him about it. _

“Steve,” Bucky says, voice coming out reedy and tremulous. “You can’t believe this. I didn’t—”

“Bucky, please stop.”

“But I—”

“What reason would Brock have to lie to me?”

Bucky feels like the air’s been knocked out of him. “What reason would  _ I _ have to lie to you?”

“I’m sorry, Buck,” Steve says, and now there’s a tear rolling down his cheek and his voice sounds thick with emotion and Bucky just wants to wrap him up in his arms and protect him from the world but now is really not the time. “I just don’t know if I can trust you anymore. Not after what he said.”

“St—” Bucky starts, but the name catches in his throat and he can’t speak. He can’t even fucking speak to try to convince Steve to stay. Steve just looks at him with this expression that Bucky’s never seen on his face, ever. Like Bucky has inflicted an unfixable wound on him that he will never forgive.

Bucky’s whole world is falling apart in front of him and he doesn’t even understand why.

Steve tears his eyes away from Bucky, as if he can’t even stand to look at him anymore, and pushes past him, marching toward their room.

“Where are you going?” Bucky manages to choke out.

“Sam’s place. Don’t wait up.”

Bucky goes back into the living room and sinks into a chair, finally setting aside the book he’s still clutching in his hands. He sits there while listening to the rustling sound of Steve packing up his essential items into a bag, staring blankly at the wall. A few minutes later, Steve passes through, pausing to look at Bucky with a look that’s no longer even angry. He just looks betrayed. It hurts more than Bucky thought anything ever could.

“I hope you know—” Steve begins, but his voice catches. He squeezes his eyes shut and hangs his head, shaking it. Then he’s walking out the door. Out of Bucky’s life.

Bucky blinks the stinging tears out of his eyes, staring down at his hands for fifteen minutes or so as if they’ll tell him the answer to all his problems, and then pulls out his phone.

_ Sam we have a problem. And by we I mean me _

He watches the ellipsis as Sam seems to start to respond and stop again. Then the message pops up:  _ Don’t bother. Steve already told me what happened _

Bucky whimpers.  _ Sam, please, I didn’t do it. I don’t know why Brock said what he did but I would never do that to Steve _

_ Look man, all I know is that Steve is currently crying on my doorstep and it’s because of you _

_ Fine, you know what? I’ll leave you alone. Clearly he needs space but just know that I haven’t given up on him and I’m not going to _

He switches over to his chat with Natasha.  _ Natasha, has Steve talked to you? _

He continues to stare into space and tap his foot increasingly frantically while he waits for a response.

_ No?? What’s up _

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before opening them to type out his answer.  _ He thinks I cheated on him _

_ Did you? _

_ What? Of course not _

_ Then he’ll realize eventually and come back. Where is he right now? _

_ At Sam’s. Sam is angry too _

_ I’ll talk to him. But he’s just trying to be a good friend _

_ I know. I’m not angry at either of them. Just fucking Brock _

_ Uh oh, is he the one who told Steve? _

_ Yeah. Dude is a snake, idk why Steve still puts up with him _

_ Because he wants to see the best in everyone _

Bucky knows that’s the truth. He just wishes Steve would try to see the good in him right now. But as far as Steve knows, Bucky has betrayed his trust. And Bucky understands that it’s hard to see the good in that.

So he does the only thing he knows how to do in this situation. He drags himself out of his seat, throws on his jacket, and heads to the store for Ben & Jerry’s.

He deliberates for a few minutes in front of the freezer at the store before realizing he can’t settle on one flavor. He snags some Cherry Garcia, some Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, and some Coffee Toffee Bar Crunch before shuffling his way over to the checkout. He realizes that between the armful of ice cream and the red rims of his eyes he’s probably pretty obvious, especially when the cashier throws him a pitying look, but at this point he’s past the point of embarrassment. He just wants his fucking ice cream.

Back at home he finds a random romantic comedy to watch, cocoons himself in a blanket, and starts shoving the coffee ice cream into his face. By the end of the movie it’s entirely gone and he feels even worse about himself than he did before he started. His eyes and throat feel raw from the small sobs that have been escaping him every so often the whole night. Maybe it’s time to go to bed, he reasons. Maybe in the morning he’ll feel better enough to find a way to fix this.

That night he tosses and turns, drifting in and out of a state of half-sleep. Every so often in his grogginess he reaches out a hand to touch Steve before remembering what had happened, a shudder running through him.

He doesn’t feel any better in the morning. He feels worse. It really hits him, how much he has at stake here and how much that motherfucker Rumlow has quite possibly ruined his life. He rolls out of bed and checks his texts. There’s one from Natasha. Nothing from Sam and definitely not anything from Steve.

He checks Natasha’s message.  _ Sam still believes what Rumlow said and says he doesn’t want to talk to you again for a while. Sorry, man :( _

He doesn’t really care about that. Sam is Steve’s best friend besides Bucky, who clearly isn’t Steve’s friend anymore. He expected Sam to be on Steve’s side unequivocally. If anything, he’s glad he is. Steve needs someone right now.  _ Do you know how Steve’s holding up? _

_ He’s apparently been crying nonstop since he got to Sam’s place and he skipped work today _

Fuck. Bucky didn’t even do anything but he feels like a piece of shit anyway, because Steve is feeling that much pain over him. He feels his face crumple as it hits him all over again. And to make matters worse, he doesn’t even have work to distract him until tomorrow. And even then, it’s a dull retail job that leaves plenty of time to stew over what’s happened.

He spends the day lying around listlessly, flipping through the television stations. He doesn’t notice it getting dark outside until it’s already 8:00. He tosses his blanket off and sits up, joints popping with disuse. He has literally never felt so shitty in his life, and that can only mean one thing.

It’s time to get drunk.

He gets dressed in a rush, not looking to attract anyone, and leaves as fast as he can in the haze he’s living in. He catches a taxi and goes to the nearest bar, a kind of shady place that has cheap enough drinks that Bucky can afford to get completely trashed even on his frankly pathetic income.

He ducks inside, head down, and heads straight for the bartender. He orders and downs his drink, and then another, in record time. Soon his head is swimming and he realizes if he doesn’t stop soon he’ll have trouble making his way home.

It’s then that he sees Rumlow.

He’s standing before he even knows what he’s doing, pushing himself out of his seat and swaying slightly before he reaches out to catch himself against the back of his seat. He straightens up again and marches over as best he can, swaying occasionally but managing to stay upright. Rumlow is facing away from him, talking to another man, when Bucky approaches.

“You bastard,” Bucky spits, grabbing the back of Rumlow’s shirt.

Rumlow spins around and grins when he sees the look on Bucky’s face. “Well, well, well.”

“You told Steve I cheated. Why?”

Rumlow shrugs. “Why not?”

Bucky splutters. “That’s not a fucking answer.”

Rumlow just grins. “Let’s just say you were getting in my way.”

Just as fast as he grabbed onto Rumlow, Bucky now shoves him away in shock and disgust. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

“I can’t believe you call yourself a friend to him. You’re ruining both our lives.”

“Isn’t that a little presumptuous?” Brock asks, mouth twisting into a wicked smirk. “For all you know, he’s better off without you.”

Bucky has the sudden urge to vomit, which is probably a fifty-fifty split between the amount of alcohol he’s consumed and the sight of Rumlow’s hideous face, so he turns and runs and doesn’t stop until he’s outside. He leans over in an alleyway, emptying the contents of his stomach, before stumbling to the sidewalk and hailing a cab so he can get the fuck away from that creep.

At home, he eats the entire pint of cherry ice cream and ignores the churning feeling in his stomach as he falls asleep.

He wakes up at 4 AM and throws up again. He can’t get back to sleep, so instead he decides to punish himself by reading through his old text messages with Steve. There are a lot of hearts and “I love you”s that make him squeeze his eyes shut and try not to break out into full-body sobs. This was a terrible idea, he decides, and he powers off his phone before setting it aside. He stares at the ceiling blankly until it’s time to get up for work.

That night he eats the last pint of ice cream he has, the chocolate chip cookie dough, and then, feeling desperate, runs out for more, ignoring the nervous looks of the people around him as he glares his way through the crowd. He realizes he hasn’t shaved in a couple days, which explains the weird looks his coworkers were shooting him earlier in the day. He shrugs to himself. It’s not like he cares at this point.

This time he’s feeling even more like shit than the last time he bought ice cream, so he heads straight for the Cheesecake Brownie, S’mores, and Chocolate Therapy. He doesn’t even have the energy to give a shit about how pathetic he must look.

He carts his ice cream home, shoves it haphazardly into the freezer, and flops onto the couch, glaring into nothing. He’s still reeling from the shock of it all. One minute he and Steve were as happy as it was possible for two people. Bucky had even tentatively been planning a proposal, because he couldn’t imagine living the rest of his life with anyone else. And then…

And then that fucking asshole came along and ruined it all because…well, just because he’s an asshole and he could. And now Steve doesn’t trust him and probably never will again and it feels like Bucky’s entire universe is ending because what other explanation is there for what’s happened in the last few days?

And then a few days later his phone rings and  _ this. _ This is his universe ending.

“Steve had a really bad asthma attack. He’s at the hospital. You probably shouldn’t come but I just thought you should know.” Natasha’s tinny voice coming down the line makes him realize that all the shit that came before this moment was just a warm up for the pain of not even being able to be there when the love of his life is in a cold hospital room, probably shaken and scared. Bucky knows what Steve is like when he’s sick, terrified on the inside but putting on a brave front that no one but Bucky seems to be able to see through.

“Like fuck I’m not coming,” Bucky says, and he hangs up, cutting off Natasha’s “Now, Bucky—”

He makes his excuses at work and rushes over, heading straight for the front desk as soon as he walks through the doors.

“I’m here to see—”

“Bucky.”

Bucky turns to see Sam and Brock standing side by side.

“Natasha said you were coming,” says Sam.

Bucky just stares, a pleading look. “Can I see him?”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Seriously? You think he wants to see you right now?”

“Please, Sam.” Bucky feels his voice quaver, and his eyes sting. Stupid eyes. “I need to.”

Sam shakes his head. He looks a little sad, Bucky thinks, as if he’s regretting that he has to say no. “I’m sorry,” he says. “But after what you did…”

“ _ Please. _ Sam, I didn’t do it. Rumlow just…” Bucky points at Rumlow, who arches an eyebrow as if to say,   _ Are you sure you wanna go there? _

Bucky does wanna go there. He stares Rumlow down and says, “He lied.” He addresses the next part to Rumlow himself. “I don’t know what kind of sick satisfaction you’re getting out of this, but…” His airway cuts off with a sob and he steps forward. “Please, Sam, just let me through.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

_ “Let me through!” _

He tries to push past Sam, but Sam grabs his arm and holds him back. Bucky’s movements grow frantic as he tries to tug himself out of Sam’s grasp. He’s almost worked himself loose when Rumlow grabs his other arm.

“Let go of me,” Bucky snarls the moment he feels Rumlow’s touch. He’s dimly aware of other people backing away while the woman at the front desk calls for assistance, but he doesn’t care. He just needs to get to Steve. He needs to.

And then something in him breaks and he sags. “Fine,” he mutters. “Fine, I won’t go up. But I’m waiting here. You can’t make me leave.”

They both let go of him, Rumlow holding on for just a beat longer than Sam before taking his cue. Bucky slouches off to a chair in the waiting room and sinks into it, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning his face forward into his hands. And then he waits.

Eventually he gets over himself enough to pick up a magazine and flip through it. He barely sees the text, but it’s enough of something to do that it helps the time pass a little faster, at least.

He’s been there for about three hours when he hears Steve’s voice echoing down the hallway. He straightens up immediately, throwing the magazine back down on the table. He doesn’t stand, but he stares at the doorway with what he knows is a disgustingly hopeful expression.

A group of people rounds the corner, and there in the middle is Steve. He looks pale and wan, even frailer than usual. Bucky edges forward in his seat, hoping to catch Steve’s eye.

And then he does.

Steve stops short, and Sam knocks into him from behind, looking annoyed before he also spots Bucky and visibly sighs.

Steve frowns but cautiously approaches. “Bucky,” he says tentatively.

“Steve,” says Bucky, and it comes out breathy and pained and hopeful, all at once. Like a prayer.

“What are you doing here?”

“I heard about what happened and I…” Bucky isn’t even sure how to finish that sentence. All he knows is that Steve was suffering and he needed to be there, at least in proximity to Steve, even if he couldn’t be right next to him.

“No, I mean, why do you even care, after what you did?”

Bucky’s face crumples. “Steve, how can you even say that? I lov—”

_ “No,”  _ Steve snaps. “No, Bucky, you don’t get to say that to me. Not anymore.”

Bucky’s mouth falls open. “I-I…” he stutters out. Then he curls in on himself. “Okay. I understand.”

Steve nods and then turns away and leaves. As he goes, Sam reaches over and wraps an arm around his shoulders, and Steve hangs his head, leaning into it.  _ At least Steve has someone. _ As she walks through, Natasha shoots him a look that says,  _ I told you this was a bad idea. _ He just shrugs before standing himself and trailing after everyone through the exit at a safe enough distance that he won’t have to interact with them again.

It’s not until he’s at home that it hits him. Up until this point, there was a tiny part of himself that thought maybe, just maybe, Steve might start to realize he was wrong and take Bucky back. Now though, Steve has made it abundantly clear how he feels. And Bucky is never getting him back.

He puts on a romantic comedy he’s watched with Steve a thousand times, making fun of how cheesy it is but both secretly enjoying the hell out of it, while demolishing all of the Cheesecake Brownie ice cream. He doesn’t even have the energy to feel guilty about all the calories he’s consuming

The next morning, he decides that if this is how it’s going to be, he has to move on. He drinks his coffee, shaves, and goes for a run before coming home to shower and get ready for work. That alone makes him feel a little more human.

He comes home and can’t stop himself from eating the S’mores ice cream, but he only eats half the pint and overall he’s calling this day a victory.

The next day he does it again, ice cream included, and feels even a little better than he did the day before.

The day after that, he leaves his last pint of ice cream where it is in the freezer and feels prouder of himself than he has in a long time.

And then a few weeks go by where he goes for his morning run, shaves, goes to work, and he starts to feel like he’s healing. He’s never going to be completely over it, but he thinks he might end up okay.

At this point he’s feeling better enough that he feels like he deserves something nice, so he goes out to a bar one Friday night. It’s not like the last time he went to one. For one, it’s a much classier bar, not disgusting like the one he saw Rumlow at. For another, he’s actually dressed for a night out this time. He’s still not planning to meet anyone, other than maybe a new friend; he’s not ready for that. Won’t be for a very, very long time. But he still wants to look his best, so he wears his nicest jeans and a thin t-shirt that shows off just the right amount. He throws on a leather jacket and his favorite shoes and he’s ready to face the world.

He slides into a bar stool and orders, then people watches while he sips his drink. A sense of contentment settles over him that he hasn’t felt in a while.

He thinks he spots a flash of blond hair and it could be his imagination, but it looks like it might be attached to someone much smaller than average. He frowns and gets up, telling himself he’s just going to the bathroom, but heads toward where the person went, which is technically in the opposite direction of the men’s room.

As soon as he rounds the corner, his stomach sinks. As he suspected, it’s Steve. And he’s with someone dark haired and suspiciously Rumlow-shaped.

Well isn’t that just great. Bucky storms over, not even thinking it through. He stops short when he reaches them. It takes them a few seconds to realize he’s there, and then they both look up at him quizzically while he stands there fuming.

“What the fuck?” is what ends up coming out of Bucky’s mouth first.

Steve just glares. “As if you have any right to judge, Buck. If you’re allowed to cheat, I’m allowed to date if it’s what helps me get past it.”

The fact that Steve is still using his nickname makes this whole situation so much worse, because Bucky knows that Steve still loves him, deep down, and if he could just see what a liar Rumlow is that he’d come running straight back to him.

“A date, Steve? Seriously? With this asshole? It’s been one goddamn month!”

“What are you even doing here, anyway?” Steve asks, a bite in his voice.

“I—” Bucky starts.  _ I’m trying to get over you, _ he doesn’t say. Instead he just spits, “What’s it to you, anyway?”

“Because I wanna be sure you didn’t fucking  _ follow me here _ because you can’t handle the thought of me getting on with my life without you.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t, Steve, that’s the thing. Because I didn’t do what you think I did and I hate that you’re letting a fucking lie get in the way of everything we had.”

“You’re just saying that,” says Steve, but he looks a little less sure than he did a moment ago. Bucky sags.

“You know what, Steve? Believe what you want. I just want you to be happy, whether that’s with me or without me.”

He turns and walks away, not looking back.

He breaks down as soon as he goes home, groping around in the freezer for that last pint of Chocolate Therapy, the one that’s been sitting untouched for the last few weeks. He had been so proud of himself for not needing it, for losing the couple pounds he’d gained from the other five pints. He eats it while curled up on the bathroom floor with a bottle of whiskey, trying and failing to hold back the tears that had apparently been building up while he wasn’t looking.

He falls asleep there and wakes at noon the next day to his phone buzzing. He fumbles to dig it out of his pocket and takes a sharp intake of breath when he looks at it.

It seems that while he was passed out, he’d received a massive string of texts. From Steve.

_ Holy shit _

_ Oh my god Bucky _

_ Brock got drunk as fuck and started bragging to me about what he did _

_ Apparently not realizing that that shit was not gonna go over well _

_ Oh my god _

_ Are you there? _

_ Are you okay? _

_ Bucky, I’m so fuckign srorry _

_ Seriously Buck I udnerstand if u dont wanna tlak to me but plese answer me _

_ I just wnanna know tht youre okay _

_ I cant fckign see my screen rn please tell me youre alrite _

It continues like that for dozens of texts, getting more and more frantic and the spelling getting progressively worse. According to the time stamps, he stopped at around 3 AM, probably because he fell asleep. It then jumps to the most recent one he sent, just a few minutes ago.

_ Bucky are you there? Are you at least at home? _

He considers not answering, just to show Steve a little of what it’s been like for him, but he can’t do that to Steve. Not even when Steve has put him through hell this last month. So he simply types out,  _ I’m here. _

He watches as the ellipsis bubble goes on and off a few times while Steve presumably writes and then deletes several messages. Then he just gets  _ Buck I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do? _

Bucky is tempted to throw himself back into Steve’s arms, just like that. But…

_ You didn’t trust me and you really hurt me and I’m not gonna recover from that immediately. I love you and I want to try again but you’re gonna have to prove to me that something like this isn’t gonna happen again. _

_ I will, Buck, just tell me what you need. _

For the first time since Steve left him, Bucky allows himself to fully smile.  _ Well, first of all, you could get your ass over here. _

_ Seriously? _

_ Come home, Steve. _

Twenty minutes later the door clicks open and Steve walks in, his bag slung over his shoulder. The shaky smile on his face betrays his level of anxiety, but he looks genuinely happy to be back and Bucky is genuinely happy to see him. 

Steve sets down his bag by the doorway and takes a cautious step toward Bucky, as if he’s afraid of scaring him off. Bucky decides to take the initiative and takes the last several steps toward Steve, swooping him up in his arms. Steve lets out a surprised laugh, flinging his arms around Bucky’s neck. He tucks his face into Bucky’s chest, letting out a soft sigh.

“I missed you,” he says. “Even when I was pissed as fuck because I thought you were stepping out on me with some other guy. I still didn’t know how the hell I was supposed to get over you.”

Bucky just squeezes Steve closer to his chest and thinks that maybe, just maybe, they’re gonna be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Phew! If you made it this far without breaking down, congrats, you're a stronger person than me. I teared up a little while bouncing ideas around with a f(r)iend. Thanks to that friend, [thatotherfiend](http://thatotherfiend.tumblr.com/), by the way. This fic would not be what it is without all your help and neat ideas for Suffering™.
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://hearteyesmonroe.tumblr.com/)!


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